


Dreams aren't always what you wish for

by DarkMoon9058



Category: Cogchamp - Fandom, Crewfu, Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft Youtubers, mcyt
Genre: 5undy - Freeform, Among Us, Both boys are rays of sunshines, Cuddles, Dreams, Five needs a hug, Fluff, Fundy needs a hug, Happy Ending, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Polus kind of doesn't exist anymore, Snow, Soft Five, Soft Fundy, bad memories, polus, traumatic pasts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:22:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29626278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkMoon9058/pseuds/DarkMoon9058
Summary: Five can't dream. Every time he slips into sleep memories of a past plague his mind on replay, reminding him of where he came from and who he is.Fundy can't dream. When he closes his eyes shadows and monsters from the deepest parts of his head invade his thoughts. He can't explain them.Both boys have trouble sleeping. Both boys have never had a good night's sleep. Neither has ever had a good dream. But maybe with the comfort of each other, they can finally relax.
Relationships: Floris | Fundy/5up, Hafu & 5up
Comments: 8
Kudos: 103





	Dreams aren't always what you wish for

**Author's Note:**

> This literally took me an hour to write, so it's kind of shitty, but oh well. I'm too lazy to go fix it and I figured it was good enough to publish anyway, so here you go.   
> TW: Flashbacks, panic attacks, shattering glass I guess??

If you were to describe Five, most would say he’s a dreamer. A man of incredible talent and immense kindness aiming to be the best person he could be. An easily achievable dream considering he was already nicer than about one hundred percent of the friend group. But if you were to go inside the mind of a dreamer, you’d find no such dreams. Instead, you’d find a barren wasteland, frost tipping on the edge of fingers and bitter cold piercing through delicate skin. You’d find the echoes of loved ones, fading into deep mist and swirling snow, so much that one could not see through it. You’d feel terrible, tears springing out of your eyes and sobs out of your mouth. And lastly, you’d feel the sweet kisses of death as she silently hushes you to sleep. Only to wake up and find that you’d been rescued by someone you’d thought you’d never see. These weren’t dreams, but memories. Memories of a home that no longer existed, torn apart by a cold so sheer it split the ground to the core. Bits and pieces of his birthplace now floated in space, none of them big enough to inhabit anything anymore. Five remembers. It might have been back when he was a mere child, but he remembered. And sometimes he wished he didn’t. He knows of nightmares and how splitting fear from the darkest of minds brings terror during the night. But he knows that anything is better than the destruction of his home. 

Fundy was a ray of sunshine in the eyes of most. He was a bubbly and talkative person. No one knew he cried in his sleep. Fundy was granted the wish of dreaming if you could even call it that. He wasn’t remembering the trauma of his past, explosions and war, but he dreamt up nightmares. He hadn’t been near or heard anything to do with his terrors, yet he thought them up anyway. As if the universe decided that a single previously traumatized soul had to suffer more. They would range from black tentacles with sharp spikes and fires to deep pits radiating death and sorrow. And every time he found himself there, he prayed he would leave. They say dreams always end at the best parts, and that the span of eight hours fly by while you sleep. Not for Fundy. It always dragged him deeper and deeper, and it seemed he spent days in curled balls trying not to look at the monsters of his mind. Sharp teeth and torture chambers, needles and monsters, evil and smirks. It was all too familiar. When the daylight comes back to chase away the demons, he shines. He was glad they’d finally left, that’s why he smiled in the worst of situations. He reminds himself that whatever happened in the day is never worse than what happens in the night. Even if death takes or life gives. It didn’t matter in the long run anyway, he was always right back in the same place as soon as his eyelids closed. 

It was cold. Frost littered his hair. His fingers could barely move, his skin cracked, his tears froze to his face. Wind screamed in his ears and chills travelled up his spine. He was built for harsh winter weather, but he’d never seen anything like this bitter ice. Winter always hit the worst on Polus, but this mid-summer day was worse than all winters combined. Even the yetis with fur thick as tree branches froze up and passed. Piled up in snow so violent that the grey was pricked from the bodies, scattered in the snow like droplets of blood. Icicles only larger and larger by the second, threatening to crash down and end the lives of many who shivered below them. Teeth chattered and muscles flailed painfully within the confined skin, trying desperately to produce warmth that would never come. 

‘ _ Come sweet children to a land warmer’ _ A song of winter storms. It was the only thing in Five’s mind, as he clattered and shivered, the burden of surviving weighing down on his shoulders like the weight of a thousand boulders. 

‘ _ You may seem scared but I promise _ ’ The verses had been written by ancestors, singing their children to sleep in bitter cold. Ancestors who had not yet developed thick furs or cold-resistant blood. 

‘ _ You can trust me, for I am life and death itself _ ’ Life and death, yin and yang. Back then death was a common outcome of blizzards. But as evolution took its course, life began to come back, until the snow was no longer a threat. 

‘ _ I will decide your fate, suffering youth. Death is no worse than life, do not fear _ ’ When children have nowhere left to go, their fate is in the hands of the wind. Shall they die, it is told that the wind will blow their spirits to sunny skies and warmer places. Shall you live, they blow you back to safety, planting a seal of safety to long life. Five is that child now, buried deep under snow, oxygen failing to reach his lungs, instead, frost beginning to spread inside his mouth. It was a terrible feeling, pain he couldn’t express. He didn’t have the energy. 

‘ _ Wake up, find health no matter the choice _ ’ And that’s when he remembered that this had already happened. He wasn’t freezing to death in the piles and heaps of murderous ice. He remembers being rescued by a girl in yellow. She was young with black hair. He remembers that the suit provided muffled warmth. He remembers her cries of alertness. 

“ _ Mother! There’s one over here, a survivor! Please hurry, he’s hurt! _ ” The next thing he remembers is pain. Burning pain, all over his body, spreading through him like the embers of a burning fire. And he almost wishes that he’d stayed in the cold. It starts at his fingertips, spreads through his arms and to his chest. His beating heart begins to thump faster and faster, reminding him that he was still alive, though in pain. He wonders if this was his mental trauma affecting his body. He can’t see. His eyes are burning as well, as though someone squeezed soap into them. He can’t hear. His ears feel as if they’d been plugged with cotton. He can’t smell, despite burning all he smells is ice. He can’t taste, there’s just the texture of freeze burnt flesh. All he can do is lay there and wait for fire to consume him whole, for death to whisper in his ears once more. But none of that compared to when he wakes, listening to a conversation he wished he didn’t hear. 

“Polus has died. The frost cracked the ground even, all the way down to the core. We’re lucky we pulled him out when we did, or he would have died along with the planet” And then he blacks out. 

He wakes up with a gasp. Memories were no pleasant feat with Five, you never knew what you were going to get. Sometimes a bitter cold. Sometimes a fiery hot. Sometimes a crushing despair. And sometimes all three at once. He looks around. He is not on the planet no longer in existence. He is not in the medical center, a heater gently blazing through his almost frozen body. He is not trapped within the confines of his mind as he realizes that no one else survived. Instead, he is in his room, a blanket clutched tightly in his hand and a bead of sweat trickling down his face. His gaze turns to the window. The sun is not yet risen. The clock reads ‘Four fifty-four’ and he knows that he won’t be able to go back to sleep tonight. So he gets up, the shiver travelling up in his spine not even bothering him. No cold ever bothered him anymore. Not since the pain of being frozen almost solid. Just as no heat ever burned him. Though he knew he hadn’t exceeded abnormal temperatures while he felt burning, a sunburn never compared. He still carried that crushing weight, but it had been relieved since he’d first felt it. Kind of. Every once and a while it wormed its way into his nightmare-like memories and pounded on his head like sticks on a drum set. He leaves his room and wanders down the hall, making his way to the kitchen. Five needs water. Not cold water, not warm water. Lukewarm water would do. He didn’t need to trigger himself more than he’d already done. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and turned on the tap, eyes blinking to keep away the urge to close his eyes. He stares down at the liquid before gingerly taking a sip. It refreshes his dry throat and brings him closer to awareness. The clock on the wall ticked at a rhythmic pace, telling Five’s mind to tick along with it. So he does, each one dragging him deeper into a sense of calm. Panic was on the edge of his mind, but he suppressed it. But that all shattered when he heard shuddering breaths travelling down the hallway. Whoever it was clearly had a bad night. The breathing was laboured and quick, distress slipping into each one. Five knows that breathing pattern all too well. It makes him think every night he’d woken up before sunrise with erratic breathing. All the times he’d told Hafu that his sleeping habits had something to do with insomnia and that it couldn’t be helped. Another half-truth to add to the pile of things he felt guilty about. He doesn’t turn around to see who it is, instead, taking another sip of the mediocre lukewarm water. 

“F-Five? W-what are y-you doing up so e-early?” Ah, so it was Fundy. Stuttering was evident in his voice, broken voice cracks prominent and gasps between words. So he was a broken sobbing mess. Five felt a protective surge in his chest. Feelings for the fox hybrid were always confusing, but he knew one thing for sure. He was in love with him. 

“Had a rough night” Five responded. He knew his voice was equally as destroyed, rough and cracking like he hadn’t had water in years. It lacked the broken gasps, yet those were replaced with an underline of sadness, laced with desperation and guilt. 

“Nightmare?” Five asked, tone softer. He had turned around to get a look at the other, the sight stirring up a concerned feeling. His eyes were puffy and red, his hair dishevelled and his sleeves wet with tears. 

“Y-yeah. Y-you?”

“I guess you could say that. More of memory” The glass of water is placed on the table as Five walks towards the taller, gently touching his shoulder. He hates the way Fundy flinches. 

“You alright?” he asked. Fundy sniffled. 

“Y-yeah, I j-just need some w-water and I’ll be o-out of your hair” the stuttering hadn’t improved. Five frowned, pushing aside his own feelings and gently guiding Fundy to the couch despite the protest. 

“I’ll get you your water. Cold or room temperature?” Fundy looked at him like he was insane for even suggesting room temperature water. It was one of the things Five loved about him. His emotions were worn on his sleeve and it was always easy to tell what the other was feeling. “I prefer room temperature water after my...night-memories? It just pushes away the feeling of freezing to death. Hot water just brings back the burning fire...lukewarm just sits there and does its job” he explained. Fundy’s face morphed into apologetic, guilty and understanding all at once. 

“O-oh. I’d l-like cold though, p-please” Five nodded and stepped back into the kitchen, taking out another glass from the cupboard and placing three ice cubes into the bottom of the glass. Small clings of ice colliding with metal reached his ears and for a brief moment he was brought back to the creaking metal of the shelters as the icicles slammed into them, denting the roofs. He shakes his head out and moves to the sink, filling it with water that immediately begins to chill upon contact with the ice. His hand clenched around the glass at the temperature. Just like that his fingertips felt frozen again, his arm freezing and his mouth tingling with frost. He wants to scream, but his vocal cords fail him as if the ice is beginning to numb them as well. He’s still in the kitchen, but it’s colder, as if it’s dropped several degrees within the past minute. He knows it hasn’t but this skin told him a different story. The loud shattering of the glass pierces his ears and the cold seeps into his feet. His breaths become ragged and forced. ‘ _ Calm _ ’ he tells himself. ‘ _ Get a hold of yourself! _ ’ but he doesn’t. The kitchen is suddenly white, white as the snow encasing him and the frost blackening his fingertips. The air is freezing, his skin is tingling, and he  _ can’t breathe. Why can’t he breathe? _ Panic sets at the moment his lungs will with the cool air of snow. He doesn’t know how or when, but he finds himself in a ball, tears streaming freely as he gasps for breath. How foolish he was to even think about handling ice so soon after a memory. And just as suddenly as there was cold, there was warmth. At first it was just on his shoulder. Then it disappeared from his shoulder and landed in his hands. As he began to warm up, he calmed down. He opened his eyes to find that blinding white was replaced with shadows and the shimmering blue of Fundy’s eyes. 

“Shh, you’re okay. You’re okay. I’m here” His words cut deep into Five’s core, warming him up until all the frost was melted. Five noticed that Fundy’s voice no longer shook. “Tell me what happened?” It was a soft-spoken question. Five sniffled. 

“I-I was back there, in the s-snow, freezing, eleven f-feet under, i-it was so cold and then e-everything was white as s-snow, and I couldn’t b-breathe I just couldn’t and-” Fundy moved, hugging Five so that his face pressed into the other’s chest, muffling the sobs. 

“Hey, we all have nightmares every once and a while, it’s okay” Five whimpered. 

“Not a nightmare. A m-memory” Five knew he was concerning Fundy, but he couldn’t find himself to stop. “W-winter was so h-harsh and e-everyone was d-dying and e-everything was cold and I c-couldn’t breathe and-” his speech cut off with another ugly sob. 

“You’re alright leafling, just breathe for me, okay?” Five can feel himself being picked up, and soon enough he was resting comfortably on Fundy’s chest, laying down on the couch. Neither of them spoke, instead, embracing each other with gentle unspoken love. Five can’t help but wonder about Fundy’s own reasoning for being down here at such an early hour. 

“I had a nightmare,” Fundy said abruptly as if he read Five’s mind. “It was a black sky with white ashes falling to the ground. Everything was charred but there was no fire. There was a blank-faced...creature I guess. It was spikey and dark as if it commanded the shadows itself. It was approaching and I couldn’t move. A-and it stabbed me, s-straight through the gut. I woke up a second later, crying with sweat dripping down my face. I came to the kitchen, saw you. You led me to the couch and a minute later you dropped the glass of water. You were a wreck, sobbing and breathing erratically. Are you sure you’re-” Five took a shuddering breath.

“I’m okay, Funds,” He reassured. Nothing more was said, instead, holding each other until sleep came and took them.

Five opened his eyes. He was warm. He was happy. His heart was beating. The sky was clear, the clouds were gone and there was not a trace of mist in the sky. This wasn’t a memory, he knew immediately. 

“Leafling?” He looked down to find Fundy, snuggled into his side, arms wrapped around Five’s waist. Five gently pat his head. 

“Hey Funds,” he said soothingly. Fundy’s blue eyes looked up at him. 

“It’s your first time dreaming,” he said blatantly. Five knew that much already. “How does it feel?” he asked. Five took a second to respond. 

“It’s beautiful,” he says after a minute. 

“It better be,” Fundy said sleepily, nuzzling further in Five’s side. Five never knew sleep could come as easily as this. He supposes this was the essence of a dream. And he’s happy he met someone as wonderful as Fundy. 

“This...isn’t a nightmare?” Fundy was confused when he opened his eyes to find that nothing towered over him, there were no shadows and nothing whispered. 

“Wrong! I am a nightmare!” It was Five’s voice, giggling after the statement. Fundy looked at the source of the noise to find that Five was in fact in the dream. Yeah, a dream. Not a nightmare. Wow. 

“Am I dreaming?” he asked out loud. Dream-Five grinned at him. 

“Of course you are, silly! I wouldn’t be here if you were having a nightmare!” He exclaims. Fundy smiled affectionately at him. 

“Yes you would”

“What makes you say that?”

“Nightmares are scary. You know what scares me above all other things?”

“No, what is it?” 

“You crying. I hate to see you cry, your eyes get all puffy and I can’t hear your beautiful voice behind the sobbing” Fundy admits. He sees Five blush slightly and he can’t help but smile wider. 

“Fundy you big dork!” Five says, laughter bubbling into his sentence. Fundy makes a statement right then and there. Nightmares weren't as bad as a crying Five. And Dreams weren’t as good as a smiling Five. He’s like the sun. Nothing brighter, nothing dark. And he loves that about the boy, and he laughs along as he follows Five into the flower fields, finally understanding the good parts of a dream. Maybe not all sleep was fated to be bad. 

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, that was that :)  
> I hope you enjoyed it! Feedback is always appreciated. Yes, I'm aware I switched between the present and past tense a lot, I do that sometimes and I'm just way too lazy to go back and fix it, so you will have to deal.   
> Word count: 3010


End file.
